A New World Family
by ArixaBell
Summary: America and Canada find a pair of twins and decide to raise them as their own little brothers. Until they start to wonder if the boys are actually intended to be their replacements. AmeCan
1. Chapter 1

_America and Canada find a pair of twins and decide to raise them as their own little brothers. Until they start to wonder if the boys are actually intended to be their replacements._

_Will become more of an adventure story after a few chapters or so. But for now, cute family fluff. :)_

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine_

* * *

"We're...we're there! I can see it!" Canada pitched forward onto the grass and inhaled deeply. Some clover went up his nose, but he didn't care. His feet were no longer moving, that was all that mattered.

America just threw back his head and laugh. The creep wasn't even winded. "Yeah! The cabin looks nice."

"There's the road, right over there. Why did we have to walk all that way?" Canada pushed himself into a sitting position. A nice hike to their cabin had sounded like a good idea at the time, but that had been before he'd known how many miles were involved. He ran a hand through his damp hair, and blew the long curl out of his face. "Need water." Thank goodness they had had their baggage delivered.

America squatted in front of his twin, grin turned up to 100 watts. He leaned over and kissed Canada's nose. "We used to walk everywhere together!"

"That was a long time ago."

"You sound like an old man! You're sounding like _England_."

"Quiet, you." Canada gave him a half-hearted swat. With another laugh, his American brother hopped to his feet.

It was true, though. They _had_ wandered everywhere together, once. That was one of the reasons they were currently spending every non-busy moment they had touring their countries together: to relive old times. The memories, though, had only resurfaced in recent years. They couldn't explain why. Starting a couple years ago, memories that had been tickling both of their minds had suddenly surfaced, one bit at a time. The puzzle pieces of their childhood were slowly fit back together.

They had been together. Every moment. Back in the days before European colonists had come or borders had separated their land, they had spent their time wandering, hand-in-hand, in constant contact. They explored every inch of their combined lands, from the frigid arctic north to what would someday be called the Florida Keys, and everywhere in between. They were perfectly at peace, truly happy. But then it had happened. An instinct, an invisible drive, drawing them apart: one south, one north. And they had gradually forgotten about each other, unable to remember even when England introduced them. The loss aspect didn't alarm them, it was common for memories of the first years of life to be lost.

Why the floodgates had opened, restoring long-buried memories, they would probably never know. They were simply glad it had happened. And they had tried to recreate those days, traveling together whenever they had some free time. They had reconnected as brothers. And even more, finding new ways to grow closer, blur the borders between them. It was hard to even think of themselves as lovers—what they had went beyond that, there wasn't a proper word for it. They truly were two halves of one whole.

"Come on!"

Canada's musings were interrupted when he was rather rudely hauled upright. It did not end there, however, and he found himself swept up into America's arms like a maiden in a cheesy romance story. "Al! What are you _doing?_"

"You were tired! So I'm lending a hand, like any good hero."

"Put me down!" Canada squirmed. "This is embarrassing."

"Nobody's here!" America laughed again. "Hey. Stop wiggling."

"No! Put me down."

"Never! Seriously, though, stop _wiggling!_ Ack...!" The mighty hero lost his balance, and they both went tumbling. A stupidly convenient hill sent them both rolling faster, further, the scenery becoming a blue and green blur as sky and grass tumbled around Canada. He soon rolled to a stop, groaning and cursing his luck that he had inherited all the brains in the family.

"Ow." Canada rubbed his head, wincing. Where the hell had his glasses ended up? If they were broken...Not that he was too worried. If they could take one of America's hurled baseballs, they could take anything. "You big, stupid, burger-brained...Al?" His brother was sprawled on his back a short distance away, not moving. "You okay?" His own aches and pains forgotten, Canada crawled over to him. America had lost his glasses, too, and his eyes were shut. Heart hammering, Canada leaned closer. "Al?"

He gave a startled yelp when America's arm suddenly sprang up and gripped Canada by the hair, dragging his face down and mashing their lips together. The idiot chuckled into the kiss, and Canada jerked away. "I hate you."

"You love me!"

"Yeah, I love you. So don't do that, it's mean."

"I am offended that you think a tiny hill could kill me!" America tugged Canada again, and he toppled over on top of his brother. "That's better."

"Oh yes? Are you sure I'm the one that belonged to France once?"

"Pff. If I'd been raised by France, you'd already be naked."

He had a point. "Shall we get up and go investigate the cabin?"

"So soon?" America waggled his eyebrows, snaking a hand around to squeeze Canada's butt.

"What, _here?_ We're outdoors! In public!"

"There's nobody here," the American scoffed.

"What about public indecency laws?"

"We're in America! I can be as indecent as I want on my own land."

"Your people freak out if they see a boob on television!"

"So we should start desensitizing them!"

"You insist on outdoor sex?"

America nodded firmly. "I insist. We must christen the land."

"Fine." Canada leaned over to kiss him, caressing the other man's lips with his tongue. While he was preoccupied, America grabbed him by the wrists and rolled them over, until he was pinning Canada down. "What are you doing?"

"It's my turn, of course!" He gave his northern brother a cheery smile and a wink.

"To what? Oh, right. Well, I don't recall reading any rules that we _have_ to take turns."

"I'm telling you about the rule right now. It's my turn, and I want to do you."

"Well I want to do _you!_"

"Tough." America kept him firmly pinned.

"Please?" Canada pouted, batting his long blond eyelashes.

"Oh, don't do that, no!"

"Pleeease?"

"Dammit!" America relaxed his grip, and allowed his brother to roll them back over. "But hurry up, my turn's next for sure."

"Oh, I never hurry," Canada purred. He leaned in close, and was just about to start biting shirt buttons off and expose golden skin when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He jerked away from America with a gasp.

"What is it? Change your mind? Done already? Before you ask, it was _not_ good for me."

"Shh. Um, who's there?" Canada stared at the innocent row of bushes. He could have _sworn_ he had seen something there. Something brownish. "It was probably an animal. But I definitely saw something move."

"You're just paranoid. Get back on me, or lose your turn."

"Just hold on." Staring wasn't doing anything, so Canada found a nice long stick in the grass, and carefully poked at the bushes. No animal would be interrupting _them_. He was rewarded with a yelp.

America rolled upright, gaping. And they both let out involuntary "Awwww"s when the intruder—or, rather, intruders—emerged from their hiding place. It was a pair of teensy little boys! The cutest little boys Canada had ever seen! They were identical, with chubby angelic faces framed by soft hair that hovered between dark blond and light brunet. Their impossibly large eyes were a dewy, warm brown. And they were dressed in matching white gowns with red ribbon tied around their necks, feet bare and grass stained.

"And where did you come from?" America asked, adopting the high pitched tone of voice some people insisted on using when addressing pets and babies. "Do you live nearby? Are your mama and papa around?" The boys shook their heads, and he frowned slightly. "Are you lost?"

"Al..." Canada pursed his lips. "Look at them. Can't you see it? Or feel it? They're...like _us._"

"In a relationship? That's a bit unusual for human twins. Especially ones so young."

"No." He felt _he_ should be the one called a hero. For his superhuman patience. "I mean, they _aren't_ human. They're like us."

"Oh." America's eyes widened. "Ohhh. Oh! They're...wow!"

One of the boys held out a hand, the hand that wasn't clinging to his brother's. Canada stepped forward and accepted what was offered. It was two pairs of glasses. "You found those? Thank you." He tossed one in the general direction of his own brother, and restored the other to its rightful place.

"Hey! If you break Texas, you pay for it."

Canada ignored him. "Who are you boys? Where are you from?" He got a dual shrug in response. "You have no idea? You must be from somewhere...I haven't _heard_ of any new countries popping up or being discovered."

"Maybe some other idiot built a micro-nation, like when England made Sealand," America mused.

"I suppose that's possible..."

"Though we found them here. Hey! Maybe a couple of my states are thinking about seceding! Oh, that wouldn't be good, it sure sucked the first time..."

"Wouldn't you _know_ about that by now?"

"Yeah. So maybe a couple of your provinces are seceding. Is one of you Quebec?"

Canada rolled his eyes. "I'd know about that by now, too."

"Fine. Micro-nations it is." America strode forward and scooped the small boys up, one in each arm.

"What are you doing!?" What was this obsession with picking people up today? "We need to get in contact with the other nations, figure this out."

"But they're cute! Can't we keep them? If one of the others reports a couple of missing micro-nations, we'll give them back."

"They're not lost cats! We can't _keep_ them!"

"Why not? England kept me!"

Canada blinked, the implication of that finally hitting him. "You want to adopt them as our little brothers?" He had to admit. The thought was appealing. _He_ hadn't been around when all the European countries got to colonize the new world and everywhere else. He had _been_ the new world and everywhere else. He never got a little brother of his own. It was not especially fair.

"Just until somebody calls us up wondering where they ran off to." America nuzzled the hair of the child in his left arm. "I'll call this one Sam."

"You're naming them already? I get to name the other one. Sam?"

"After my uncle!" America beamed.

"You don't have a...oh. Never mind. Fine, Sam it is." Canada gazed at the other boy. What did he look like? "Pierre."

"Pierre. As in, France's birds?"

"I like Pierre."

"Okay, Sam and Pierre. Do you boys like those names?"

"Yes," said Sam, and Pierre mimicked him.

"Wait, don't put them down yet." Canada stepped closer and plucked at the ribbon around Pierre's neck.

"I wasn't going to. What are you doing?"

"So we can tell them apart, before we get to know them better." He stuffed the freed ribbon into a pocket.

"As long as they don't purposely switch places to mess with us."

"Why would they do that?"

"We did it to England."

"Yeah, but they seem better behaved than you were."

"_Me?_"

"You." The boys in America's arms giggled briefly, and Canada smiled. "So, you like your new names. Is this okay? If you stay with us? For now?" The pair nodded. "Good! We're staying in that cabin over there. We were a lot closer to it, but the genius holding you decided we needed to go for a little ride down the hill. As you probably saw." Oh man, they had probably been watching _the whole time_. But the young twins just giggled again.

As the new family started on their voyage back to the cabin, America filled the boys in. "So the country we're in is America. That's me. You can call me that. Or Alfred, or Al, or Big Brother, or Bro. The country north of us is Canada, that's him. He's also your big brother. Or Matthew, Mattie, Matt, or various other names depending on how our hockey teams are doing."

"You're probably hungry," Canada said, pushing open the cabin door. "Oh, it's nice in here!" It looked like a good old fashioned rustic cabin. Only with modern conveniences.

"It is! What a relief."

"You bought a cabin without seeing it?"

"The description sounded nice." America let the boys slide down.

"We have to go back to work in a week, remember," Canada said as they located the kitchen. "Hey, there's food in here."

"I sent someone to stock it. And I know we do. We had to be left alone all the time when we were colonies, too, they'll be fine. And you and I will be a lot closer than England was. Is."

"That's true. Wait, no syrup?"

"Why would I have the place stocked with my syrup when I knew you'd be bringing some of yours?"

"Stop stereotyping Canadians! We don't bring maple syrup with us wherever we go!"

"Well our luggage should be waiting for us in the bedroom, shall I go look?"

Canada hung his head in defeat. "No...I brought four bottles."

"Mattie."

"Five."

"Mm hm. So let's see..." America poked his head in the fridge, and Canada peered over his shoulder. Burger meat. What a surprise. And cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, onions, pickles... Well, at least burger toppings could also make a nice salad.

Canada reached over his brother's shoulder and snatched the brick of cheddar cheese. "I'll make them a sandwich. That's a childhood classic."

"You know grilled cheese? I thought you only put cheese on nasty gravy fries."

"Go entertain the boys."

"You don't want my help?"

"Do I ever? Nobody who learned to cook from England is allowed to help."

"Fine." America swung the fridge door shut and turned around to kiss Canada's neck. It sent a tingle down his spine. It always did, and always would. He was almost disappointed with how easily the American relented and headed back to the living room. The boys seemed well-behaved, they might not be curious about loud sounds coming from the kitchen, like bangs and crashes and groans and—_Stop it! Channel out the France, Matt, channel out the France._ Oh, who was he kidding? Their horniness was all them. The fact that their bodies were perpetually teenaged didn't help. But still, it was different, when they were together. Their physical relationships with past lovers hadn't been anywhere near as passionate, intense, loving. Whether it was due to their relationship itself, or some nifty little aspect of their geography, they didn't know nor care.

Canada pushed thoughts of sex aside, focusing instead on this new family of his. The sudden appearance of two new possible potential nations was strange. But the thought of raising an adorable set of twins as his little brothers—with America!—was like a dream come true. Kids! A family! Never in a million years would he have imagined that. Not notifying the other nations about these two was undoubtedly wrong, but...

Well, whatever. Even if it was only for a short time before England the greedy colony collector stole them, at least they would have this for a little while.

In due time, Canada emerged from the kitchen balancing four plates of sandwiches. "Lunchtime!"

"You boys are lucky!" America plucked the plates out of his brother's grasp and distributed them around the table. "The one who raised _me_ was unintentionally poisoning me with his cooking. Mattie's not quite so bad." He took a bite of sandwich, and apparently decided it was acceptable. "I think it was unintentional, anyway."

"Who raised you?" Pierre wondered, sampling his own sandwich.

"England. He's an island nation far away. Off the map."

"Not off normal maps," Canada muttered.

"He raised both of us, though France also raised Canada some. It's a long story."

"Who's France?" This time it was Sam, assuming they hadn't swapped ribbons already while they were in the kitchen.

"A man who is nice enough, but don't let him touch you. Ever. Or get close, even."

"Why?"

"Adult reasons."

"Oh."

"Hey, we should go play a game!"

Canada rolled his eyes. "Let us finish. Not everybody eats as fast as you."

"You're too slow."

"Go start without us."

"I'll go get a fort set up!" Grinning broadly, America bolted from the table, stopping only long enough to dump his plate in the sink. It was kind of endearing.

"Sounds like we're going to be playing cowboys and cowboys," Canada said. "Or something like that." As the rest of them ate at a more leisurely pace, he told the children various stories; about himself and his brother, about other countries, about Kumawhosit, who was being cared for by some Canadian friends while he was traveling (the idea of a talking polar bear greatly excited the boys). They were still laughing over something said when they joined America in the living room. Which had now become an impressive fort of cushions, pillows, and blankets.

Rather than giving them the proud, idiot grin Canada had been expecting, America just smiled lightly. He almost looked on the verge of tears, gorgeous baby blues sparkling behind his lenses. Canada hurried closer. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Fine." America shook his head. "Just... you. And them. Laughing together, and being cute. And you're _my_ family."

"Aww." Canada shooed Sam and Pierre into the fort, then pulled his twin into a hug. "I know what you mean. It may not last, but for now at least we can have this."


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

Canada slowly drifted awake, and a lazy smile spread across his face. America's arm was tucked around him, snugging him close. Canada was facing away, but the even breathing implied his lover was still out. _Should probably go in soon. It's getting late._ The idea of a nap on the picnic blanket had been greeted with enthusiasm after they finished eating, so the four of them had curled up and done just that. Judging by the lack of children, they had already awakened and were having fun elsewhere.

Only a few small clouds decorated the sky, all that remained of last night's abrupt squall that had sent them rushing back into their cabin. Sam and Pierre had had a fun time that morning pointing out all the animals and objects they saw represented in those cumulus puffs. America had seen cloud shapes as well, that had required him to whisper in Canada's ear. He was so immature. And Canada had only laughed to be polite. Really.

"Hey you. Wake up." Canada squirmed out from under the possessive arm. "Or just sleep there, whatever. You look cute." Was it narcissistic to admire his twin's beauty? Probably. Oh well. Ever the cliché romantic, Canada brushed an errant lock of hair out of his southern brother's face. America didn't even twitch. When he slept, he slept hard.

Canada located the boys a short distance away, tossing a softball back and forth. America had purchased it. It was patriotic.

"Oh, big brother, you're awake." Pierre waved, though it meant missing the ball that landed instead at his feet. The boys were now dressed in jeans and t-shirt, Pierre in red and Sam in blue. They were adorable no matter what they had on. "Is big brother Al still asleep?"

"Last time I checked." Canada hunkered onto the grass to watch them play, remaining off his butt in case last night's rain hadn't completely dried. "It's dinner time soon. I think." And they would have to be leaving the boys behind in a few more days. His stomach did a little flip every time he remembered that, even knowing they'd be able to take care of themselves.

"Can we play a little longer?"

"Sure! Ten more minutes."

"Hey, Mattie, go deep!"

Canada glanced over his shoulder and laughed. America was up, tossing an ovoid ball from hand to hand. "Where'd that come from?"

"What _is_ that?" Sam wondered.

"A football!" the American said with pride. "Most countries confuse it with a soccer ball. Go figure. C'mon, stand up!"

"I don't want to." Without getting up, Canada shuffled away, like a tall blond crab. He knew what football with America was like.

But then the boys started chiming in. It was hard to refuse three adorable fellows begging him to play with their big puppy eyes. Eyeing the leftover mud, Canada relented and stood up.

* * *

"Don't you need a bath, too?" America asked.

"Nowhere near as much as you did. I'll shower later." Canada, perched on the toilet lid, glanced up from his magazine. "Besides, there's no room."

For a cabin, it had a generous sized bath tub. They had plunked the boys in, then America had donned swimming shorts and joined them. What space wasn't taken up by muddy nations was occupied by a vast armada of toy boats. And, for some reason, a plastic mermaid with a pink tail and strategically placed blond hair. They had gone a little crazy at the store the other day.

He shook his head, smiling fondly, then returned to his magazine. The mermaid was being torpedoed by Sam's submarine.

"So still no word about new mini-countries."

Canada looked up sharply. Should they be talking about that in front of said mini-countries? "No."

America fished out a couple small pirate figures. One was brunet, the other blond. Canada thought they looked suspiciously like Spain and England. "Do you think we should tell someone?"

"Not telling was your idea." The northern nation set his magazine aside. He could catch up on which celebrity was dating whom later.

"I know..." America ran a hand through his damp hair. "Just feeling guilty, I guess. They'll be pissed when they find out."

"Al!"

"What?" His face was the very picture of innocence.

"Don't say bad words in front of the kids!"

The boys, who had been thoroughly occupied in their game, now looked up. "What are bad words?" Pierre asked.

America looked to his brother, but Canada gave him an 'after you' expression.

"Uh. Words we don't allow you to say, of course. Until you're adults. Adult words."

"What words don't you allow?"

The wet blond threw Canada another pleading look.

"Well..." Canada smiled. "Gardenburger, for one."

America laughed. "Right! And Mrs. Butterworth's."

The young nations looked utterly confused, but their big brothers were amused, so they smiled and resumed playing.

Canada gave them a few more minutes, then fetched some nice fluffy towels. He ignored the boys' complaints as he rinsed them off with clean water and scooped them up. "I still need to shower, and we still need to have dinner. Go on, get your PJs on."

"You sure you don't want to join me?" America asked once they'd run off, grin plastered on his face.

"Mm. Toys and muddy water. It's tempting, but..."

"When did you get so snarky?"

"When I met you."

"You've _always_ known me!"

"I know." Canada leaned over to kiss the top of his wet head. "You just bring out the worst in me."

"You should be nice. At least I know who you are."

"Barely. I keep waiting for you to shout your own name in bed."

"Seriously, why am _I_ the one England calls a brat?"

The northern blond smirked. It was an expression few besides his brother had seen. "Get out, I need the shower."

"Can I shower with you? Then I'll be twice as clean."

"And pruney. But okay."

A good half hour later, Canada exited the bathroom with a towel around his shoulders and a pleased smile on his face. The younger set of twins were already waiting in the kitchen—Sam was seated at the table, playing with a salt shaker. Pierre was gazing out the window. He had been doing that a lot the last day or two, they had noticed. Especially the kitchen window. There were mountains in that direction, it _was_ a lovely view.

"Okay! What shall we fix?"

* * *

America smoothed the comforter over the young twins, then settled down beside them with a thick, ancient book.

"What's that?" Sam asked. "It looks boring."

"They're stories England read to me when I was little," America said with a smile.

"You bring it on vacation?"

Huh. Perceptive child. "Um. Sometimes I like to read them, yes. Don't tell big brother Matt, he'll tease me." He opened to a random page and peered at it. "Not that one. That one gave me nightmares." He flipped a few more pages, and began to read. The words of the familiar old tale made _him_ start to feel sleepy before the boys. But soon Sam out cold, sprawled on his back with a hand curled up near his face. Pierre remained awake a while longer, staring off into the distance. Struggling to keep his eyes open, America continued the story, voice fading from animated excitement to low drone. He set the book down on their nightstand when the other boy finally drifted off. America yawned, and let his own eyes close. He'd just rest them for a moment...

America jerked awake again some time later, rubbing his stiff neck. The boys remained asleep, and there was a blanket draped across America that he didn't remember being there before he'd dozed off. With a shrug, he curled up in the chair and went back to sleep.

* * *

_Not the most exciting chapter. Sorry. /bows/ Next chapter: the plot thickens!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"Helloooo?" America flung the front door open, posing with a thumb's up. "I'm back! Boooys! Oh, Canadaaaa!" He scratched his head. Okay, so Canada might be running late, but the boys should still be there! They'd had a _very_ firm talk with Sam and Pierre about _not wandering away_ while their big brothers were gone. Work had been a bit more stressful than usual, waiting impatiently for the time he could return to their homey little cabin, but now he was back!

"Big brother!" Sam came racing into the living room, arms flung wide. America scooped him up and held him close, nuzzling the child's soft hair. Sam smelled like little boys everywhere, which involved a lot of dirt, but it wasn't unpleasant. Not _too_ unpleasant, anyway.

"How is everything?" he asked. "Did you do okay on your own? Where's your brother?"

"Everything's fine," the boy said. "We did okay. Pierre's outside."

That was informative. "Okay. Big brother Matt should be back soon, too." The bespectacled nation let Sam slide to the floor. "Outside, you said?"

"Yup." Sam started feeling around in America's pockets. "He likes it out there. You brought me something, didn't you?"

America laughed. "Yeees. In my bag. I'll fetch Pierre and show you at the same time." He ruffled the miniature nation's hair and returned outside, gazing around with a hand shielding his eyes. No Pierre, so he circled around to the back. Ah ha! The boy was standing a bit away from the cabin, staring off into the distance. Was he _still_ doing that? It was really starting to creep America out. Trust the one Canada named to be the odd one.

"Um...Pierre? Guess who's home!"

Pierre spun around, and his face broke into a grin. "Big brother!" His hug was no less enthusiastic than his brother's. "How was your trip?"

"Boring." America returned his grin. "But in our line of work, I guess boring's a good thing. That's what they say, anyway."

"Is big brother Matt coming?"

"He should be here any time now. Why don't you come inside, and I'll give you both your presents!"

"Presents!" Pierre wiggled loose, casting one last, longing glance in the direction he had been staring.

Okay, that was too weird. "What _are_ you looking at?" America peered that way, but he couldn't see anything! Nothing worth staring at, anyway.

"I don't know," Pierre said with a little shrug. "What's in that direction?"

"Well...nothing! That's, uh, that's north. But I don't see anything. It's..." He trailed off, pursing his lips. Wait a second. This felt familiar somehow. Very familiar. How could he not have noticed before? "You, uh...you want to go that way, don't you?"

Pierre stared down at his feet. "I'd like to. I don't know why."

"And Sam is perfectly satisfied here."

"Yes..." He sounded rather disappointed.

"Ahh...Look, just wait here for now. Okay?" America didn't wait for an answer. He ran. Pierre probably thought he'd lost his mind. Once he had returned to the front of the cabin, away from the boy, America tugged his phone out and gave his twin a call. No answer. Hopefully he was on his way...

"Ohhh God..." America sat down on the soft grass, then flopped over and curled into a ball. This wasn't good. This really wasn't good. Not at all. The puzzle pieces were all snapping together. He was dimly aware of somebody else settling down beside him. One of the boys. Sam. Sam must have decided his big brother didn't look like somebody to disturb, as he simply lay down nearby. America remained silent as the gears in his head turned, reminding him of facts that had simply been mysterious but were now quite disturbing.

And that was where everybody remained when a car pulled into the drive. "I'm back!" Canada exclaimed as he slid out of the vehicle and flung the door shut. "Oh, hello. Everybody's outside. Well, you two are. Hi! Did you miss me? Where's your brother? Why is everybody ignoring me?"

"Hi, big brother!" Sam pushed himself to a sitting position and waved. "Pierre's in back, he likes it there. Big brother Al is...tired?"

Canada smiled. "Tired, huh? Poor Al." He stepped closer, and squatted beside his brother. "Hi."

"Hey..."

The northern nation's smile fell. "Are you okay?"

No, not especially. "Sam...go play with your brother, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." The boy stood, gave Canada's cheek a kiss, then ran off.

"Now tell me what's going on," Canada said, brows furrowed in worry. "Are you sick again?"

"Um..." America licked his lips. "No. Not sick. I've just been thinking, and I think I might know who the boys are."

His twin blinked. "You do?"

"Well, they appeared here..."

"Yes."

"And they're twins."

"Yes..."

"And Pierre is always looking north. He wants to go that way. Like you used to, when we were little, whenever we were in the US. Well, you know, the eventual US."

Canada's eyes narrowed as he absorbed the facts. America was kind of surprised he hadn't come to the same conclusion on his own; he was usually the smarter one, after all. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. "What are you saying? That they're..._us?_"

"Who else would they be? They don't look like us, but everything nation-wise fits!"

Canada gave a single nod, forehead wrinkling. "But our countries aren't in _need_ of new nations! They have us."

"I know..."

They were silent for a few moments, lost in thought. Finally, slowly, Canada said, "There's Greece. And Egypt. And other countries whose ancient nations were replaced."

"I know," America moaned. "But we aren't ancient! The others still think of us as children."

"It doesn't make sense. Unless some sort of catastrophe is going to happen soon, and we'll be-"

"Or something like that." America curled up tighter. "This isn't fair."

"We'll think of something." His northern brother reached over to stroke his hair.

"I'll find a way to save all of us, of course." He couldn't give up already, that wasn't very heroic. America used Canada as a lever to pull himself a bit more upright, kneeling on the grass.

"All of us..." Canada swallowed. "Yeah. That might be hard. If they _are_ supposed to be...what we think they are, both pairs of us can't stay."

America whined. "It would be totally unheroic to save ourselves at the expense of them."

"So there has to be a way to save all of us. Like you said."

He leaned against his northern brother, idly plucking blades of grass. The warm fuzzy happiness he had been feeling since finding Sam and Pierre was evaporating. The more he thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. If they had countries of their own, even tiny Sealand-esque ones, they would have turned up there. Of course they would have. But they hadn't, they appeared in America. And Pierre wasn't satisfied in the US, he wanted Canada. _But what's going to happen to us? A disaster, like Mattie suggested? Or have we grown obsolete already?_

"We should ask," Canada whispered.

America's head snapped up. "Ask? Ask who what?"

"Ask...Greece or someone. About what happened when he, you know, replaced his 'mother'."

"Oh, good idea. I'll give him a call."

Canada shook his head, and America paused in the middle of reaching into his pocket. "He doesn't have a phone right now. Can't afford it."

"Oh. What happens if someone needs to get a hold of him without involving a third party?" America made a face, wrinkling his nose.

Canada rubbed the back of his neck. "Er..."

And that was how they found themselves on a flight to Greece, their little brothers (they refused to think of them as anything else) once again left alone to care for themselves.

"I guess we could have called someone else," America mused, flipping through the Sky Mall catalog. "Egypt?"

"Good luck getting a full explanation out of him," Canada said.

"Hmm. Oh!"

"Yes?" Canada turned to face him, eyes brightening behind their lenses.

"Look at that Lord of the Rings chess set, Mattie!"

Canada looked away.

America shrugged and replaced the magazine in its seat pocket. It was a little hard to believe they were on a transatlantic flight just to ask Greece a simple question he may very well have no helpful answer for. But they would rest easier after they did, regardless of the outcome. _And I'm going to fund a damn cell phone for him_. In truth, though, it had been a long time since either of them had seen Greece—or any foreign countries, outside of necessary meetings. Exploring North America was lovely, but a trip sounded nice.

"It's been a while since I've had Greek food," America said after several quiet, contemplative minutes. "I'm looking forward to a nice big plate of pierogi."

"Um...that's not..."

"Or some blini."

"Seriously, you're thinking of-"

"What about you?"

Canada rolled his eyes for some reason. "How about some spätzle and sauerbraten?" His tone sounded a bit sarcastic.

America laughed, patting his twin on the shoulder. "Silly. That's _German_ food." He leaned over to give him a kiss, but Canada just desperately looked down at his watch. With a shrug, America settled back in his own seat and pulled a hand-held video game from his carry-on. Sometimes long flights made Canada a bit grumpy.


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

* * *

"Have another," Greece said, pushing the platter of baklava closer. America declined for once, but Canada helped himself to yet another wedge. "I wish I could be of more help, but when the time drew closer, my mother stayed away. She didn't want me to see."

"So there wasn't anything that could have been done for her?" America lifted the small glass of clear liquid and tried a sip. He coughed violently. "Man. That's... good?"

Greece smiled. "Thank you. And no, of course there wasn't. Her time was up. She accepted that."

"What if her time _hadn't_ been up?"

The brunet yawned and scratched his head. "Then maybe she'd have been more upset? I don't know."

America sighed, setting the glass down before he could be tempted to try some more. He glanced over at his twin, who was busy licking honey syrup off his fingers. He quickly looked away again before he was tempted to do things on Greece's table that the other nation wouldn't appreciate. "Well, sorry for wasting your time."

"_My_ time?" Greece's smile stretched wider. "You're the ones who flew over here."

"I know. You sure you don't want to sign that Phone Funding Pact?"

"I'll get back to you on that," Greece said, and America wondered how.

"We'll just get going now." Canada wiped his hands off and stood. Greece blinked in surprise.

"When did you get here?"

"Never mind..."

The brothers left Greece's table and made their way awkwardly down the pile of ruins. "Should we try Egypt next?" Canada wondered.

"I don't see what good that would do." America raked a hand through his hair. "Even if we could get him to string a few sentences together, he'd probably say the same thing. I guess this was a dumb idea."

Canada wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders. "It was a good idea. And you're the one who figured that out about the boys! It seems so obvious, I can't believe I missed it."

"Oh, stop." America felt a giggle bubbling near the surface and squelched it. _That_ wouldn't do. "Should we just go home?"

"We could." Canada's eyes grew distant, and America's heart leaped. Canada was thinking! He'd think of something. "Or, instead of delving into the past, we could ask somebody who could help us now."

"Who?"

"Somebody who knows a thing or two about magic."

"So we're going to Las Vegas?" That sounded fun.

"Um, no. I meant England."

"Who knows magic in England?"

Canada let out a breath. "_England_ England. You remember him, right?"

"Stop that. Of course I do. What does he know about magic?"

"A lot? Don't tell me you still refuse to believe in it."

"Of course," America scoffed. "Him and his spells and unicorns and fairies and nonsense."

"You've seen it! Remember when France wanted a love potion to make someone or other fall for him?"

"No..."

"You don't? Didn't you wonder why France flipped out when Russia drank something of his that one time?"

America thought back. He _did_ remember something like that happening at a meeting the previous year. "I thought it was some expensive wine."

"Then Russia started chasing France!"

"I thought he was just being his scary self."

"They made out!"

"Russia's scariness shows itself in many forms. And France makes out with everyone!"

"Well, I've seen England do other things. He's not crazy, you know."

America was fond of his former caretaker, but it was hard to picture the times England had chatted with thin air, patting creatures only he could see, and not think he was a _little_ mentally unstable. "I don't know. I don't want to worry him. This might freak him out."

"Probably so..." Canada just shrugged. "But if he can help us, we'll all get over it."

"Back to the airport?" America made a face. "I hate flying. Unless I'm the pilot. Then it's awesome."

"Sorry, love. We're still flying commercial."

* * *

One four hour plane trip later, they found themselves dragging their bags out of Heathrow and into the drizzle of London.

"So depressing." Canada popped his umbrella open. "Must it always rain here?"

"Says the country who's all frozen tundra," America said, unfurling his own patriotic umbrella.

"_All?_"

"Don't be upset, I love my igloo-dwelling neighbors."

"And I love my redneck friends."

They summoned a taxi, which carried them the rest of the way to England's house, distracting the driver with their cuddling. "Should we just show up unannounced with our luggage?" Canada wondered as they dragged their bags up the walk.

"Why not? I do it all the time. England adores me." He gave the door a confident knock, then pressed down the doorbell.

The door yanked open. "Oh, _what?_" England snapped. "I was just about to get in the shower. What are you doing here?" His eyes slid down to the luggage. "Bloody hell."

"Nice to see you, too." America pushed past him, into the antique home.

"Ah, we won't stay too long," Canada said. "We just wanted to ask you for a favor..."

"I have a phone."

"We were in the neighborhood!" America said. "Is this new?"

"Put that down!" England snatched the figurine from his former colony's hands. "I've had that for centuries. And how were you in the neighborhood?"

"We were in Greece. It was time for a vacation away from home."

England rolled his eyes. "I see. So what's the favor?"

"It's Canada's favor," America added. "I don't believe in magic."

The Englishman's generous eyebrows rose, and he turned to the other North American. "You're seeking magic, hm?"

"Not really," America said quickly as his brother opened his mouth to answer. "It's to settle an argument!"

"You came to England to ask me about magic to settle an argument?" England repeated in disbelief.

"Yes!" America shed his damp jacket. "So, hypothetically speaking—What?" He scowled at England's awed look.

"You know what that word means?"

America coughed. "Like I was saying. Hypothetically, let's say a nation's time was up, and a new nation appeared to take their place. Like Greece and his mother. Would there be a way to prevent that, preferably without harming the new nation, either?"

England looked back and forth between the twins, brows furrowed. "That... _that's_ the sort of hypothetical situation you two get into arguments about? You have way too much time on your hands."

"Probably. So what do you think?"

"I think it's a stupid question." He gave America a sideways glance. "It didn't _happen_ did it?"

"No! Of course not!" He just wanted an answer, he didn't want to upset England. He _would_ be upset, wouldn't he?

"So a ridiculous situation that isn't going to happen sent you halfway around the world? Is that why you went to Greece, too?"

"Al, you are the worst liar ever," Canada muttered. "It's not hypothetical, we found a pair of twin children who could very well be our replacements."

England turned on him, mouth open to retort, and it slowly closed without uttering a word. It took a few more tries before he managed to vocalize. "You what?"

"We didn't know they were at first!" America said. "We thought it'd be nice to have our own little brothers to raise. But they didn't seem to belong anywhere else, and they _did_ show up in America, and one of them wants to go to Canada, and we don't know who else they could be..."

"Th-that's ridiculous!" England spluttered. "You haven't even been around a millennium. Not even half a one! You aren't going to be replaced. Why would _you_ be replaced when there's still plenty of countries many many times older than you?"

"Like you, I know." America grinned, but only briefly. "That's what we'd like to know. Do you have any ideas who else they could be?"

"They're definitely like us?"

"Yup."

England slowly shook his head. "Twins? Who seem to belong in America."

"Right. And one is happy in the US, the other longs to visit Canada."

"What do they look like?"

"Short. Brownish hair and eyes. Chubby cheeks. Not like us, if that's what you mean."

"They wouldn't have to." England started to pace. "You're not playing a joke on me?"

"Nope. Matt?"

Canada fished some photos of the boys out of his bag, then handed them over to England. "That's them."

England stared at the pictures of Sam and Pierre for a moment, then resumed pacing. "They could be... could be..."

"I know," America whined. "Anything else and we'd have heard about it. There aren't any new countries in the middle of ours!"

"We care for them," Canada said. "So that doubles the problem. How do we save ourselves and still save them?"

"No hero would save himself at the expense of children!" America added.

"This still makes no sense!" England scowled at the photo. "A couple of baby countries like you aren't due for replacement."

"A couple of whats?"

"Unless something bad is going to happen," Canada said.

"Don't say things like that!" England handed the picture back, and walked further into the house. "Come on." They followed him, Canada occasionally nudging America when he paused to give something a hands-on inspection.

They ended up in England's study. By the time they arrived, he was already unrolling a map of North America onto the desk. Neither of them saw anything special about it (more so than usual, anyway, America always thought it was rather awesome), and England didn't seem to draw any conclusions, either. He next turned to an array of dusty old books.

"Actually, this may take a while," he mused. "Why don't you boys go unpack or take a nap or whatever?"

"Do you still have those old pirate clothes?" America asked.

"No doing anything perverted in my house!"

"Fine. Nap it is. Come on, Mattie, let's sleep. Anything else is... forbidden."

Behind them, England groaned.

* * *

Once the lovebirds were gone, England ran a finger over the spines of some books of magic. Not finding anything useful on that shelf, he turned around... and promptly fell back against the shelves with a cry of alarm, clutching at his chest. "_What are you doing here?_"

France glanced up from his study of the map. "I let myself in. That is an alarming problem they have, non? They could use all the help they can get."

"_Get out, you wine-addled criminal!_"

France just gave him a condescending smile and turned back to the map. "It's no surprise that the two of them ended up in such a relationship."

England rubbed his temples. "Why? Because their countries share one of the closest relationships between two countries?"

"No. Look at what Ontario is doing to those states, it's obscene."

"Get out."


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine._

_

* * *

_Canada found England in the same spot he had left him—in his study, poring over ancient books. Now he was seated at his desk, several open books scattered before him. He looked ready to pitch forward and use those books as a pillow.

"Good morning, England." Canada stifled a yawn. "Are you still up?"

"Yes," England said, eyelids droopy.

"He's been busy," France added from his spot in the corner.

"I can see that."

England's lips quirked. "You don't seem surprised to see him here."

Canada shook his head. "We figured out he was here already."

France gave a pleased grin. "Did you boys sleep well?"

"Yes. And that's all we did. Though we dismantled your cameras, anyway."

"How did you fi—uh, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Please leave," England muttered. "You haven't been especially helpful."

"I will not leave! Not if they're in any danger." France folded his arms in defiance. "I know plenty about magic."

"Sure you do. How's Russia?"

Canada shook his head. They could bicker like an old married couple later. "Have you found anything useful?"

England's lips curved. "I have, actually. Go get your brother, I don't want to repeat myself."

"Okay." It occurred to Canada as he left the study that England hadn't once addressed him by name. _He can barely tell which one I am when he's _not_ sleep-deprived..._ It wouldn't be so bad if he didn't immediately recognize America every time, even when he was dead drunk.

Said nation was still asleep, having shifted over to sprawl across the middle of the bed since Canada had vacated. Canada smiled down at the sleeping form, though his smile soon grew bittersweet as he was again reminded that their lives may very well be in danger for unknown reasons. He'd be damned if anything was going to happen to his twin, and of course he knew America felt the same.

"Are you watching me again?" America murmured without opening his eyes.

"Yeah."

"That's weird, you know."

Canada gave a soft snort. "Like you never do that."

"It's cute when I do it." He finally cracked open blue eyes that looked big and childlike without his glasses. "Hey..." As if reading Canada's mind, he reached out and snagged his brother's glasses off.

"What was that for?"

"They're mine. Don't steal Texas."

"Oh!" Canada laughed. He must have grabbed the wrong ones. That happened occasionally.

"I forgive you." America's bare eyes twinkled. "Though I could use a kiss."

"First thing after you wake up?" Canada backed away. "Let's take a rain check on that. Oh! England said he may have found something."

"Really?" With a grin, America stepped closer, gripping Canada's shoulder, and rubbed their noses together. "There," he murmured. "A kiss with no morning breath."

Canada grinned back. "Let's go find out what his idea is before we celebrate." He waited for America to at least put some pants on, then—once they had the correct eyeware in place—took his hand and they returned to the study.

"I don't think _that's_ what it means," England was grumbling to France. "Ah, there you boys are. About time."

"I was only gone for a moment," Canada protested, but England waved him into silence.

"So, this spell I found..." The older nation rested his chin on his hands. "It does indeed seem like the appropriate one for this situation. It has the power to render one of our kind mortal."

Canada's jaw dropped. "That doesn't-"

"You want us to turn Sam and Pierre into people kids?" America demanded. "But they'll die! Eventually."

"Better than you dying now, hm?" England said. "After a few years, they probably wouldn't even remember that they started out as something else."

"That still sounds horrible! And..." America exchanged a look with his brother. "What if we're wrong? About them?"

"That's the best part!" England looked up from his book with a smile. "It only works if there's more than one! You can't just go around de-nationing any nations, there has to already be someone else to take their place. If they really are your replacements, it will work, because you're still here. If they aren't, nothing will happen, and you can rest easy and look into who they really are."

Canada cleared his throat. "And what if it works, we strip them of their nationhood, and then another pair turns up?"

England turned back to his desk, smile falling. "Then I suppose," he said softly, "we'll know that it wasn't meant to be, and we'll have to let you go..."

The northern nation winced, taking America's hand again. "I guess you're right." Then Sam and Pierre would be doomed to a short lifespan for nothing.

"Well." America sounded uncharacteristically subdued, voice almost matching his twin's. "Let's have the spell, and we'll go find out."

England toyed with the frayed edge of an old page. "About that..."

"We don't know where it is," France finished for him. The North American brothers could only stare in response. _What?_

"A spell like that can't just be left around," England said. "It was hidden long ago."

"Any ideas _where?_" America said, giving Canada's hand a squeeze.

"Not especially. Its location is marked on a map so archaic even I can't figure it out." The Briton held it out toward America, then changed his mind and handed it to Canada.

Canada peered down at the scrap of—it couldn't possibly be paper. The barely discernible lines and landmarks and what may have been some sort of language, none of them meant anything to him.

"What the hell are we supposed to do with this?" America demanded, snatching the map away and turning it this way and that.

"There must be another solution," Canada said. He couldn't bear the thought of trudging off on some wild goose chase, then the two of them disappearing just as they discovered the spell because they had run out of time... Or risking their necks on some stupid quest only to find out it didn't work, or wasn't necessary, or...

"I won't stop looking for one," England said. "But so far..."

"So far," France concluded, "this looks like it."

* * *

America damn near paced a groove into the carpet while Canada switched back and forth between poring over the map, and shoving their things back into bags. "Could he have possibly found something less complicated?" he said for the hundredth time.

"Mmh," was Canada's reply as he stared at the 'map'. Could it even be called that? Maps had helpfully labeled (in English!) landmasses on them. With streets, and other useful tidbits. Symbols and squiggles did not a map make. How did England even recognize it as a map? Because it was as old as he was, probably.

Tired of pacing, and feeling a little dizzy anyway, America finally came to a stop. His heart ached as he watched his lover struggling to decipher what could very well be the method of saving their lives. Canada's wavy locks curtained his face; America couldn't stop himself from reaching over to hook some of them behind Canada's ear. They just tumbled right back, though. "Hey." He tugged on his twin's long random curl.

"Ow. What?"

"We're gonna be okay." America forced a grin. "I'll save us for sure."

"I know." Canada returned the grin, and it looked just as strained. As soon as that smile fell, America leaned forward to kiss him, losing himself in the sweet taste of minty mouthwash and the even sweeter taste that was all Canada. They clung to each other, kissing gently and deeply, savoring the moment for they had no idea how many more chances they would get.

Canada finally broke the kiss, panting slightly as he lay his head on his brother's shoulder. America held him close in a protective embrace.

"What do we do?" Canada murmured. "I can't figure that thing out. It looks older than dirt."

"Worse," America said. "It looks older than _England_. Who's older than England?"

It _was_ a rhetorical question, though it made America pause. They didn't say anything for a moment, until it hit them both at the same time. They drew apart, staring into each others' widened blue eyes.

"I'll go get us a couple tickets to China," Canada said.


End file.
